


Don't Let the Tide Come and Wash Us Away

by alittlewicked, hey_you_with_the_face



Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, Marvel Cinematic Universe, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Accidental Marriage, Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, Alternate Universe - Fantasy, Alternate Universe - Magic, Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Blushing Steve Rogers, Bucky Barnes Feels, Bucky takes some tree time, Dryad Bucky, Fluff and Smut, M/M, Meet-Cute, Nymphs & Dryads, Selkies, selkie steve, there is a lot of blushing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-06
Updated: 2019-03-06
Packaged: 2019-11-13 02:56:05
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,039
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18023435
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlewicked/pseuds/alittlewicked, https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_you_with_the_face/pseuds/hey_you_with_the_face
Summary: There was a man standing in the shop. A man with Steve’s leather jacket wrapped tight around him – or at least a jacket that looked like his seal skin.Anyway.A really beautiful, young man with a strong build and broad shoulders was standing in the doorway. His wispy brown hair framing an expressive face with beautiful pouty lips, an adorably cleft chin, and steel grey eyes that remembered Steve of the stormy seas of Ireland, of his ancestors’ home.Steve was unabashedly staring (sue him, it was his shop).Or: the one where Steve, the selkie with a coffee shop like they wished they had at 2 Broke Girls, gets accidentally selkie-married to Bucky, the dryad who just came back from an extended tree time, and they are both just idiots in love at first sight.





	Don't Let the Tide Come and Wash Us Away

**Author's Note:**

  * Inspired by [Art for: Don't Let the Tide Come and Wash Us Away](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18018026) by [alittlewicked](https://archiveofourown.org/users/alittlewicked/pseuds/alittlewicked), [hey_you_with_the_face](https://archiveofourown.org/users/hey_you_with_the_face/pseuds/hey_you_with_the_face). 



> First of all, thank you to my incredible artist hey_you_with_the_face / blue-reveries. She is for one an amazing artist and also an incredible source of inspiration. She saw my characters before I did and her doodles (which you should definitely check out!!!) helped me so much during writing, you would not believe it! I also thank you so much for being so patient with me!! I appreciate the hell out of you!!
> 
> Then thank you to the amazing mods that made this Bang possible!!!
> 
> And then thanks to my beta who is also my sister so she is like 75% bound by birth rights to do this :D!
> 
> The song that mostly inspired this fic is The Tide by Mr. Niall Horan!

__

 

_Don’t Let the Tide Come and Wash Us Away,_

_Don’t Let the Tide Come and Take Me,_

_I Just Want a Safe Place To Hide Us Away._

_+_

_Niall Horan_

 

**Brooklyn Bridge Park, at the bank of the East River, 5:23 am**

The water was softly lapping at the shore, the city sleepily rumbling in the distance while coming awake. Steve cautiously bobbed his head out of the murky, cold water. His thick, grey pelt was seamlessly melting into the grey light of daybreak - making him nearly invisible to any passersby.

Black eyes blinking inquisitively, he slowly drifted closer to the gravel bank, the pebbles and stones glimmering wetly in the glowing light of the Brooklyn Bridge. An excited thrill shit through him. He was home again. Hopefully for good this time around.

The park beyond the river bank was deserted, not even the customary, overly motivated early risers were jogging along the winding paths. No drunkards from the night before were sleeping off their hangovers in the shrubs. And no dogs were roaming around the area, sniffing at bushes and trees and marking a territory that would never really be theirs.

Thank the Gods for small blessings. He hated dogs, rude jerks always trying to sniff his butt. Brutes.

Propelling himself forward with a powerful stroke of his flappers, Steve drifted towards the rocks along the river’s edge until his belly rubbed along the grey, smooth stones below the water.

Blinking around one last time, always on the lookout for natural enemies, ignorant humans, and the likes, he shook himself off, loosening the hold his grey pelt had around his body. The wet fur shivered, glowing faintly while it shrunk down and revealed long, toned human legs underneath its folds.

Shaking his round head, Steve slipped the fur completely free, golden hair surfacing from below the grey.

Kneeling on the wet, slippery stones of the river shore, Steve pulled his seal skin from his shoulders, shivering from the wet drag and his back being exposed to the morning chill, and clutched it to his naked chest. He stumbled awkwardly to his feet, the now icy feeling water of the river lapping over his feet and chasing another shiver up his broad back.

While he cautiously climbed up the rocky shore, the sopping wet fur shrunk further until with one last pulsing glow the grey turned to a light brown and the soft fur melted away to smooth leather. Looking for all the world like an ordinary leather jacket, one that you could find in any other store – and no one beside Steve would be the wiser what it really was. At least he hoped so.

He crouched low on the wet, smooth stones and looked around once more, when he caught sight of softly glowing lights dancing across the meadow stretching beyond the shore and between the few trees of the small grove of the park. Fireflies.

What supernatural being would he be if he dismissed the Fates.

Cradling the jacket to his chest, Steve made his way up to the grass, following the blinking orbs of light and heading for the sparse tree line.

He ducked under a few low hanging branches and wound his way between the trees, trying to get a feeling for the small wood, looking for the perfect tree – always keeping an eye out for where the fireflies tried to lead him. Steve twisted around trunks, rubbing his skin against the rough bark around him, reaching down and tracing roots that had broken out of the earth and stretched towards the sun.

He was just stroking along the rugged surface of an ash’s gnarly roots that was lit up in the soft light of the Fates’ messengers when loud screaming pierced the nightly atmosphere of the quiet park. Or as quiet as it ever got in a city that never slept.

The sudden noise startled him into nearly dropping the leather jacket. He hunkered down against the big trees trunk, fitting himself between roots and close to the ground. It was not only the fear of someone discovering his seal skin. He was also still butt naked. Running around in Brooklyn Bridge Park. At dawn.

Facing an indecency fine was not how he imagined to start his new life in New York.

And then he could make out the shouting as it was drawing nearer to where he was crouched in the semi-darkness of the small grove.

"You're such an asshole, James! Like, the biggest jerk in all of fucking Brooklyn!"

Leaning around the wide trunk, Steve tried to catch a glimpse of whoever disturbed the relative silence of the early morning.

"Seriously. It's been months, you made your point. Now pull yourself together and come back home!" An angrily gesticulating woman was pacing up and down in front of Steve's hideout, glaring at the trees surrounding the big ash he was hiding behind.

Steve sunk even lower into the mossy ground. Was this some relationship dispute that he unwillingly became a witness of? Was there someone else hiding in this copse of trees?

Why was she sneering over at where he was cowering? Could the woman possibly see him from where she was prowling along the tree line? Surely not. Perhaps James was a cat that ran away from home and was now sitting up there in the branches?

He glanced around and up into the crowns of the trees around him. In the grey light of dawn, he could only recognized vague shapes and figures. 

"Fine," throwing her arms up into the air, the brunette stormed up to Steve’s tree. "Have it your damn way, you annoying dumbass. Stay rooted here! See if I care!"

And with a mighty kick at the tree trunk that had even the leaves softly rustling, the strange woman stomped away, hands shoved deep into her coat pockets and grumbling to herself.

Steve heaved a deep sigh when the woman had wandered away far enough for her figure to melt into the soft fog wafting over from the river lapping softly against the shore in the distance.

Hopefully that poor kitten found its way back home, it definitely was dearly missed.

Steve reached out to the root closest to him, stroking the rough bark of the ash. It felt grounding, even to a being of the sea as himself. Here, among the trees and all the way out in Brooklyn, he could only taste the ocean faintly on his tongue, already longing for the open waters of the Atlantic. Not even the East River’s water that was still clinging to him could quench that longing.

But the feeling of bark against his naked backside and the smell of the woods around him were unexpectedly soothing to his selkie soul. The ash made him feel at home. He felt safe and cared for.

He hugged his leather jacket to his damp chest. Burying his nose into its folds, Steve took a deep breathe. He smelled and remembered the storming seas crashing against the cliffs of Moher, the dank sluggish stream of the Thames, and the clear fresh water of Loch Ness. He was allowed to travel the seas and streams of the Earth, looking for purpose and sense in his long-lasting existence thanks to his pelt.

For other selkies that was an eternal life in their seal form, roaming the planet. For others it was the inherent talent of their kind to spread joy and a spark of magic amongst their chosen charges.

But always having that fear niggling in the back of his mind that one moment of carelessness, of lenience and one's pelt and freedom could be snatched away. That was why Steve took to the one measure of self-preservation that most selkies adapted: hiding one's skin.

And this gnarly tree so close to Steve's new home was perfect for the task: close, but not where anyone would look. Just out of reach. Unassuming. Part of the urban landscape. Fitting right in.

And his pelt that was most of the time in the form of a soft, well-worn leather jacket fit just right into the small space where the bark had burst open years ago, embraced by two strong roots so that the weather could not reach it, that no rain or wind could harm the pelt. Not that it could have actually damaged it... being a sealskin designed to withstand water like nothing else.

Giving his beloved pelt one last squeeze, Steve leaned towards the tree: "You take good care of it for me, right, bud?"

When he fit the jacket into the hole, a warm shudder rushed up and down Steve's arms where he had brushed the rough bark. Staring cautiously up into the thick of branches above him, he tried to make sense of the feeling that had just overcome him. A giddy kind of fizzling under his skin, goose bumps breaking out along the sensitive skin of his back, and a rapid beating of his heart.

Shaking himself out of it, Steve looked back down once more and got up from between the roots. Patting the trunk once more, an unwillingness to let go taking root deep inside him, he forced himself to turn away. With one final look back to where his pelt was hidden, Steve started towards what lay behind the park gates. Towards Brooklyn. Towards his new home.

 

++++

 

_Oh no, get ready_

_I feel it coming, it’s coming again._

 

++++

 

**Brooklyn Bridge Park, but a little further up from the river bank, 5:43 am**

Brooklyn was grey. Steel-grey. Dirty grey. Miserably grey down to its last tiny, fucking grey particle of filthy asphalt.

Or maybe that was just Bucky. After roaming the earth and especially Brooklyn for three centuries and then a bit, grey was all the world had to offer him.

It was a shame and travesty considering that Bucky was the color green personified. He could make flowers grow in the most unlikely of places. He could revitalize dead leaves. He inspired growth and flowering where he went.

And yet he had lost sight of himself among all the grey.

Becca always said that Bucky was too soft. A delicate flower, slowly withering in the cold, dark world that was the concrete jungle of Brooklyn.

And Bucky always scoffed at her. He was not soft. At least he didn’t look like it. He was tall, broad shouldered, and strong like an oak. An anomaly really among bred and born Brooklyn dryads who tended to be small, willowy things. Compact, flexible frames to take up as few space as possible and make do with the tiny pieces of land dedicated to nature in an ever growing city.

But no matter what Becca said, sometimes, he just needed time for himself, some quality tree time. Indulge in some self-care. Which got nothing to do with him being soft.

So he finally became one with nature, with his nature. It was not even a conscious decision, he was just roaming the streets of Brooklyn, listening to his sister rambling on and on about some nullity. Probably a pair of shoes or her latest hook-up with a mortal, something their kind had had no need for millennia.

And between one moment and the next, he had wandered off along the winding paths of Brooklyn Bridge Park and sunken into the ash tree that seemed to hold court in a small copse of trees. An ash that grew stubbornly in this concrete jungle, so far from his natural habitat as it was possible. He had become one with it, flesh body merging with the sturdy wood of the tree trunk. Mind simplifying, problems becoming irrelevant.

It’s only been a less than a year since he followed his dryad self’s calling. But he could already feel how he was losing himself in this new existence. At first, he only sought for a respite from his struggling with life, but now he could see himself staying essentially a tree. If it wasn’t for Becca regularly coming to haunt him with her incessant nagging to morph back into his humanoid body.

In the early light of dawn it looked like it was time for her weekly rant. At least she dialed it down from daily screaming at him to only glaring scathingly at him every chance she got and stopping for cussing him out once or twice a week. He should have picked a different tree than one in the park just across the street from their shared flat.

Somewhere, in the back of his ever slowing mind he knew he should be grateful for his sister. For her bitching and whining to bring him back into his humanoid form. For her carving her space into his new, simple mind and stop him from forgetting her, forgetting himself. But her voice just grated on his nerves this early. Not even the New York traffic had started to roll across the streets like a hoard of elephants on the run.

Right now, when he listened with only half his mind tuned in to her, then all he could hear was the lilting sound of soft birch leaves rustling, pushing together, struggling to gain the upper hand over their sisters and make their song be heard above everything else. Weeping birch trees... always so vain with their oh so pretty white bark and their curtains of cascading, gently swaying branches and that goddamn seed that they spread like confetti all over the place. 

"Stay rooted here! I don't care!"

Ah, so she was finished with today's episode of “My brother is a dick and this is why”. If he could talk in this form he'd just tell her that at this point he couldn't just change back. Didn't actually want to change back. Life as a tree was just easier with your emotions dulled. The feeling of not belonging, of not having someone to love and be loved by was muted to a faint whisper in his branches in this form. And he wasn’t even sure if he still could.

That was when something else nudged his consciousness. Something was fumbling around between his roots. Huh. Were he in his humanoid form he’d definitely have a thing or two to say about that. Judging by the shuffling, it was more a someone than a something that was pressing up against Bucky.

Interest piqued like it hasn’t been for the last year, he focused on expanding his awareness. Concentrating on the world beyond his roots, his branches, and his massive trunk.

He expanded his conscious mind, allowing his awareness to stretch out beyond his bark like he hasn’t done before. There was a man crouched between his roots, rummaging around between them and literally feeling him up.

On second thought, the man was a really fine specimen. He could do to his roots whatever he wanted. Well except from breaking or cutting them off maybe. And that was a cautious maybe. Because damn, but he looked like a young god. And Bucky has met his fair share of those in all his years.

The man was softly illuminated in the grey morning light, the dimness below Bucky’s branches mellowing out his hard contours. Broad shoulders were throwing shadows onto his trunk, tapering down into a narrow waist. Blonde hair shone in the receding darkness. And strong hands were tracing Bucky’s bark, deft fingers sliding along the trunk… he could definitely get on board with where this was going.

Then he felt the man place something unidentifiable between his roots.

 A forceful shuddered rushed through Bucky then, making his leaves rustle and shaking him awake down to his very core. He was on fire, burning bright with hopes and dreams of love and promises to be kept forever.

"You take good care of it for me, right, bud?" A soft voice whispered to him and all he could do was let his branches sway in the soft breeze.

Wanting nothing more than to answer this unexpected call, to be the man worthy of the ethereal being that has found him - him, Bucky - among the millions of other lost souls wandering Brooklyn.

 

++++

 

_I stay close, hold steady_

_‘Cause I don’t want it, don’t want it to end_

 

++++

 

**Brooklyn Bridge Park, still a little ways from the river bank, 8:24 am**

When Bucky had finally gathered his wits enough to even think about real boy stuff again, it was still all about the most basic of human desires rather than any higher actual brain functions and complex thoughts.

The visual of a pert bum bouncing away from him was all his two last brain cells could process for hours after the actual bouncing.

Those firm globes, looking two perfect handfuls. If Bucky currently had hands that is.

A tiny waist widening out to the bum of his dreams.

Golden skin for miles, glittering with the last drops of water clinging to it in the soft light shed by the fireflies going crazy in Bucky’s small grove tonight.  

Bucky was half convinced he could do photosynthesis alone from the glow of that ethereal being in his small woods.

He imagined what it would feel like to touch that soft skin. How it would feel like against his own skin, not just his bark.

How it would feel to have those strong hands stroke along his back, brushing Bucky's long hair over his shoulder, and not just touch the rough bark of his tree form.

He longed to have the man turn back around, to show his face in the early morning light so that Bucky could recognize him now among the stream of strangers' faces in New York's busy streets.

To have a smile, bright like the sun, directed at him.

Before Bucky even knew it, he was slipping out of the tree trunk, separating his humanoid form from his tree. His head broke from the bark first, tired eyes blinking in the early morning light. Cranking his neck, Bucky shook out his hair before leaning farther out of the trunk. His long, brunette locks fell unto broad shoulders. Guess a trip to the hair dressers was of dire need after months in the tree.

A first leg stepped out onto the mossy ground between his roots and a second one soon followed. Leg muscles straining to pull the rest of Bucky out of the ash. His right arm emerged, followed by the rest of his torso. The last part of him to pull free from the tree was his left arm.

His left arm in all his wooden glory, encompassed by beautiful intricately lined bark – telling his life’s story to anyone willing to look a little closer to see past the glamour.

Stretching his arms up into the sky, he heaved a deep sigh. Flexible limbs were actually kind of cool, too. Rubbing across his face, Bucky chased the last traces of his slumber away and looked around.

His memory of the last few weeks was hazy as it tended to be after a prolonged tree time. But pictures from this morning stood out bright and clear:

The soft glow of fireflies – messengers of the Fates – among the foliage above and around him.

That delectable butt bouncing away from him.

Strong hands stroking along his trunk and roots. Putting something there.

Bucky dropped to his knees so fast that he felt a little dizzy and he had to take a steadying breathe. Okay. So human him was still taking some getting used to.

Crawling forwards slowly, he let his hands roam between the roots of his ash tree. With his eyes closed, he let his other senses take over. Fingertips cataloguing a map of his surroundings. Nose twitching to catch a scent beyond the smell of decaying leaves and growing live.

Ears catching the symphony of his everyday life for the last few weeks: small rodents rustling in the underbrush, birds chirping above him. A mellow breeze swishing the leaves in their very own rhythm. And underneath it all the rumbling and cacophony of the busy New York streets just beyond Bucky’s grove.

“Come on, what are you hiding?”

Right then, the fingertips of his left hand brushed across something cool and smooth, a strange something among the plethora of rough bark, cushy moss, fallen leaves, and wispy grass.

A shudder raced up Bucky’s arm, bark tingling with faint traces of magic of whatever he had just touched, and a glowing warmth taking up residence just below his breast bone, beating in time with his heart.

Forcing his eyes open, he looked down at where his hand had clamped around the unknown thing. And gasped aloud.

Small, white blossoms had broken through the bark of his left arm, dotting the furrowed brown appendage from his wrist to where his elbow disappeared into the sleeve of his shirt. Beautiful apple blossoms were stretching up towards the sun, glowing faintly.

Bucky was mesmerized. He lifted his arm, tracing the small pink buds and delicate white blossoms with his human hand.

A blooming dryad.

Of course Bucky had heard of them. Of the few lucky ones that had found their soulmates while wandering the planes of the Earth. The ones that got close enough to their one true love to touch. And the ones that were so filled with love and affection that those emotions broke free and were for all the world to see.

Face breaking into a wide smile, he let out a little laugh. He couldn’t believe it. Bucky had a soulmate. A soulmate just for him.

And from the looks of it, they were the owner of the golden bubble butt. And the leather jacket that Bucky was pulling form between the roots of his former host.

A lone, happy tear escaped him and trailed down his cheek to fall onto the jacket clutched to his chest. He needed to find his soulmate.

Needed it with every fiber of his being.

But first, he needed to find Becca. No way was he in the right mind for a city wide search operation. 

Good thing that his well-worn jeans and his favorite check shirt had survived the shift and had not disintegrated yet. One naked man racing across the Brooklyn Bridge Park was probably enough for one morning.

A wildly blooming dryad was maybe also a bit of an overkill.

After hesitating for only a split second, Bucky slipped his arms into the leather jacket. At once he felt like in a lover’s embrace and shivered. He really wanted to find the owner of this jacket. And not just to return it.

“Let’s do this.” Pulling his shoulders back, Bucky braced himself for another try at the human world.

He held his left hand up to his face, palm open and bark glittering golden in the sun light. With a whispered puff of breathe onto his hand, he created a delicate little flower. Pink and white like the tiny apple blossoms growing up this very arm.

He blew onto it gently once more and it lifted into the air, spinning softly around its own axis before floating off and out of the grove that Bucky had called home for the last year.

 

++++

 

_Every time we get this close_

_It’s always pulling us apart._

 

++++

 

**The Pie Hole Coffee Shop, Montague Street, Brooklyn, 10:48 am**

Taking another look around, Steve allowed himself a proud smile. He had finally decided to settle somewhere and make a home for himself for years to come, to fulfil himself one secretly cherished dream: a little café or bakery or anything really to be a quiet haven in the stressful city life.

Even if it was just one tiny little whole in the wall coffee shop for now. And not that the morning rush had been particularly quiet.

But Natasha really did a number on the small store that was to be their own.

“So, you like it?” Leaning against the counter and drying down a mug, she smirked at him.

She knew he love it. The industrial styled outlay with exposed brick walls, drift wood tables, and a whole armada of mismatched but lovingly refurbished chairs to fit into the neighborhood but with unique twists applied by the owners.

Jugs, bowls, beaters, and a whole lot of other utensils needed for his pastries – especially his mum’s famous apple tarts – all lined up for use in the early hours the next day along the back wall of the store in Steve’s open kitchen. A gleaming counter ready to display his creations to a hopefully receptive audience.

He couldn't wait to open the door to their small store every day from now on, looking out at the busy streets of Williamsburg. He wanted to share the recipes he got to know during his travels across the seven seas. He wanted to share a little happiness and respite from the stress of daily life with New York.

In that aspect, he was a selkie to the core: caring and nurturing. And keeping busy New Yorkers hydrated and sweet teeth fed was going to be his part in making the world an incrementally better place.

But aside from that, Steve was not like your regular selkie, to say the least. Sure, he had the mother hen nature as they old stories said and his sealskin that allowed him to change into his seal form and experience a freedom like nothing else when he swam in the ocean. And if a selkie gifted this pelt to someone, it was a symbolic promise of giving one's body, mind, and soul.

But like everything else in this world, something freely given was not appreciated when it could just as well be forcibly taken. And so the pelt was like a bomb just waiting to go off. There were too many stories of sealskins being stolen and their owners disappearing. The pressure and stress this seemingly unavoidable fate caused released in various, often self-destructive behavior.

Cliché had it that one half of the selkie population were players, tumbling from one night stand to next fling. They were said to never being ready to settle down and cutting ties as soon as they formed them, drifting through life like a ship without compass. Never letting anyone close enough to make a go at their pelts. 

And the other half tended to give their pelts away at the first possible chance, at the first shot a love that they got. In most cases too early in a young life, pressured by overbearing parents and horror stories of what could happen otherwise.

But Steve was different. Steve was a goddamn romantic. A romantic who dreamed of finding his one true love, gifting them with his seal skin, and get selkie married to live happily ever after. Despite the stories of his kin, his ancestors, as well as friends distant and close. Or really because of these because Steve was nothing but a stubborn bastard.

And with a little goodwill from the Fates, he’d find the one soon enough.

Pushing the window open, Steve took in what lay before him. A fresh start, another new life, a new city. Or kind of. New York had definitely changed since he'd been here last. A lot for the better, some things for the worse. Much worse. And some things stayed the dreadful same way.

But that was why he was here at all. New York and especially Brooklyn and their trepid, grey deserts of asphalt, steel, and concrete were just the right environment - or rather lack thereof - were all the better for his purposes. Make the world a better, brighter place for at least one being a day.

And then he’d find his very own soulmate, get shot-gun-selkie-married, and have a ton of beautiful babies. Or adopt a puppy. Or a cat. As long as he got to spend the rest of his days with the love of his life.

Turning back around to Natasha, he smiled so hard that his eyes crinkled up.

“I love it!” Spinning in a circle once more, he let out a soft laugh. “It’s perfect!”

Smirking, Natasha pushed a tray of used mugs and plates across the counter towards the blond man: “Good, then you can get right into it and make up for the last weeks that you’ve missed since opening day and get to doing the dishes!”

Steve groaned playfully, but made an eager grab for the tray. Doing the dishes in his own coffee shop was like the best thing ever.

He nearly dropped it though when Natasha leaned across the bar and murmured: “And while you’re at it: quit dreaming about your mushy selkie soulmate stuff, you’re scaring the customers with those lovesick puppy dog eyes!”

Cackling widely at his shocked expression at being caught daydreaming, Natasha winked at him and took off to clear the last traces of their morning rush form the tables.

 

++++

 

_I just want a safe place to hide us away_

_Don’t let the tide come and wash us away._

 

++++

 

**The Pie Hole Coffee Shop, Montague Street, Brooklyn, 11:02 am**

Steve was elbows deep in a flour sack, grabbing fistfuls of it to dump on his rising chunk of dough when a woman threw open the shop door and yelled out loud: “That goddam idiot! He’s ripping my nerves like grass blades and I’ve had it up to here!”

Stomping over to the counter, the brunette threw herself onto one of the bar stools in front of Steve and glowered at him from beneath her bangs.

“Can you believe it’s been months since I’ve talked to my brother? Like, really talked to him like sentient humanoid beings do? And not just yell at him?”

“Seems to me like you’re doing okay with the yelling?”

Cautiously, Steve pulled his hands from the flour and moved to put the bag out of reach of his apparently very enraged customer. He could be dealing with a harpy right now and even though he tried to be open-minded towards any and all creatures on this Earth and beyond that – better be safe than sorry. He had lived to tell the tale of running into one too many emotionally agitated harpy in his time.

The apple tarts had to wait for now.

“Can I get you something? A latte? Some chamomile tea? A valium?” Taking a cautious step behind the coffee maker, Steve blinked at his customer.

She stared at him. A minute. Or what felt to Steve like half an eternity.

And then she stared some more.

Until she snorted ungracefully and grinned up at him.

“Oh, you’re a sassy one, aren’t you?” Shaking her head, she smiled ruefully. “You know, my brother would really like you.”

“Would he now?” Steve stepped over to the glass case displaying their treats of the day. Caffeine didn’t seem like such a good idea for now, but there was nothing a sweet cherry cupcake to soothe some raw nerves.

Snorting, the woman fixed him with a hard stare: “Let’s see. Built like a brick shithouse but in a cute way. How is that shoulder to hip ratio even real, man? And that magic twink energy you got going for you with the blonde hair and blue eyes and a smile like sunshine?”

Staring some more, she scanned him from the tips of his hair down to his toes. Steve felt vaguely uncomfortable but not in the sexually harassed way. He almost felt flattered because of the no bullshit tone it was said.

Shaking his head, he turned around to open the small icebox behind him. He bent down at the waist to make a grab for the bowl of whipped cream on the lowest shelf.

He had a vague feeling it was one of those kind of days.

Twisting back around, he put a generous serving on top of the cupcake. Being satisfied with the amount of sugar on the plate, he slid it over to sit in front of the brunette.

“Enjoy!”

Looking down at the cupcake and then back up at Steve, the woman stared at him contemplatively some more.

“He would love you, no shit. He would love you, your baking, and that cute little but of yours.”

Spearing the cupcake more forcefully than the small dessert fork warranted, the woman dug into the pastry. Steve was watching on, fascinated beyond belief.

“So I see you’ve met Becca!”

Steve jumped at Natasha’s voice in his ear. She had sidled up to him unnoticed while he tried to tame the potential-harpy, potential-something-else-entirely.

“Becca?” He asked skeptically.

“Hm?” The woman in question looked up at them, cheeks puffed out around a forkful of whipped cream.

“Yeah, Becca’s one of our regulars. You’ll get used to her barging in mid-rant about her elusive older brother who tends to go ghost or rather tree on her by times. Lovely family.”

Smirking, Natasha pulled the bowl of whipped cream over to herself and heaped another generous serving on Becca’s plate.

“She needs this, trust me!” Elbowing Steve in the ribs, Natasha took off once more to do a round of the floor.

Grunting, Becca agreed.

“I really, really do.”

 

++++

 

_Don’t give up, and don’t let me_

_‘Cause I’m needing you to understand._

 

++++

 

**The Pie Hole Coffee Shop, Montague Street, Brooklyn, 12:26 am**

When the little bells above the door chimed some time later to announce the arrival of a new guest, Steve glanced up from wiping down the counter with a welcoming smile already playing across his lips and a greeting at the ready, when time stood still. Everything drifted into the background: the smells of the coffee shop, the customers talking amongst themselves, Natasha and Becca bantering in front of him.

There was a man standing in the shop. A man with Steve’s leather jacket wrapped tight around him – or at least a jacket that looked like his seal skin.

Anyway.

A really beautiful, young man with a strong build and broad shoulders was standing in the doorway. His wispy brown hair framing an expressive face with beautiful pouty lips, an adorably cleft chin, and steel grey eyes that remembered Steve of the stormy seas of Ireland, of his ancestors’ home.

Steve was unabashedly staring (sue him, it was his shop). And the man was looking around uncertainly, searchingly, taking the whole shop in.

That was until his eyes locked on Steve and his whole face broke into a smile. A happy, all encompassing, mouth with open, teeth showing but in the friendly way, smile. Directed at Steve. Who was sure that he was burning bright like a tomato under all that radiant attention of the most beautiful man he has come across all the seven seas.

And he was slowly making his way over to where Steve was awkwardly gawking.

And then he was standing right there and smiling that beatific smile, lighting up the whole coffee shop and the street they were on and the whole of Brooklyn and New York and…

So maybe Steve had rapidly lost it over the last few seconds.

But coming to that realisation or not, he could just stand there and stare like a deer caught in the headlights.

“Hey, Becca!”

The low rasp of the stranger’s voice had shivers racing up and down Steve’s back.

Wait. Becca?

Does that mean the beautiful stranger, Steve’s love of his really long and lonely life, the sun that made the world go round and the moon creating the tides…

And he was losing the plot again.

But Becca?

With a shrill shriek that had shudders racing up his spine for entirely different reasons, Becca jumped up from her bar stool, making it fall over and clattering on the tiles.

“Bucky!” Yelling, she stormed up to Steve’s stranger and wrapped him up in a bear hug. “Oh Fates, you’re back? Tell me you’re back!”

Smiling softly, the man hugged Becca close to his chest. Strong arms bulging with the force of the embrace.

When they separated, they smiled at each other lovingly.

Until Becca drew her foot back and kicked the man in the shin.

“Damnit, Becks!” Talk, dark, and handsome doubled over, clutching his leg and cursing up a storm. Steve was officially in love.

Becca just smirked down at him.

“Just wanted to make sure you still got feeling everywhere after being a tree for months!” She even stuck out her tongue at that.

Bending down gracefully, she put the fallen chair back in its place before turning to Natasha and Steve who had been watching the exchange curiously.

“Everyone, this is Bucky Barnes. My long lost asshole of a brother!” Grinning madly, she reached behind herself, grabbed the sleeve of Bucky’s leather jacket, and wrestled him into the bar stool in front of her.

In front of Steve. Right across from Steve with just a flimsy counter separating them. Steve could jump across that from a standing position and climb Bucky like a tree. It wouldn’t even take him three seconds.

Blushing delicately, Bucky stroked a hand through his long hair.

“Way to introduce someone, Becks.”

“Oh, no need to be shy, darling. We know all there is to know about you. Like how you like your men blond, blue eyed, and with an amazing shoulders to butt ratio. Am I right, Steve?” Elbowing him in the ribs once more, Natasha smirked up at him.

A full body blush shot up from Steve’s chest to the top of his ears and he would bet some good money that it was visible through the white cotton of his t-shirt. Stammering wildly, he glanced towards Bucky with wide eyes.

Only to see that the other man was just as red across those really amazingly cut cheekbones.

For a lack of something better to do except maybe to burst into embarrassed flames, Steve turned once more to the glass case filled with their baked goods to maybe gain some cookie points with another Barnes.

He kept sneaking glances at Bucky and nearly choked on his own tongue when the other man took of the brown leather jacket that may or may not be Steve’s.

A broad chest was stretching a check shirt and well-worn jeans precariously clung to thick thighs. Muscly forearms saw the light of day when Bucky rolled up his sleeves. Strong forearms where one was all pale skin and spidery veins tracing intricate designs. And the other was rough bark, dotted by tiny, delicate little blossoms.

Steve was entranced.

Not wanting to pry when Bucky put the wooden arm on the counter and showed Becca something on it, Steve busied himself with cutting up an apple tart, clunking around with plates and the glass case. But he couldn’t help but overhear Becca’s murmuring.

“Oh Buck, this is amazing! You know what this means! You’ve always dreamed of this! You’re literal fucking soulmate is somewhere out there!” The rest came out like a little shriek, Becca’s excitement brimming over. 

When Steve turned back around towards both Barnes’ sitting at his counter, Bucky was smiling down softly at his left arm. Flesh fingers were softly stroking along the white and pink petals while a pretty blush sat once more high on his cheeks.

He looked lovely and Steve’s heart thumped heavily.

Not really looking and noticing what he was doing, he moved to put the apple pie in front of Bucky and slid the plate across the counter with way too much force.

Panicked, he watched the plate slide across the granite countertop rapidly towards its edge and the ground below it. He could already hear it shattering when he made a desperate lunge for it, hands stretched out and ready to grab it.

The next thing that Steve registered was the heavenly scent of apples in their prime, ripe for the picking and dripping with juice, and the honeysweet smell of an apple orchard in full bloom. Closing his eyes, he breathed in deeply. It smelled like his favorite childhood memories and his most treasured recipes all in one.  

He could live and die in this scent. He wanted to roll around in it and never smell anything else for the rest of his life.

A shy clearing of one’s throat pulled him out of his apple induced trance.

Blinking confusedly, Steve became aware of his surroundings once more. Natasha was smirking at him from behind Becca who was staring at him with wide, hopeful eyes.

And then there was Bucky, beautiful, soft Bucky, who was blushing furiously once more. Because Steve had his wooden arm in a death grip. His wooden arm that was covered in even more blossoms than before and spreading Steve’s new favorite scent. Japan during the cherry bloom season was nothing compared to the small hole-in-the-wall coffee shop somewhere in Brooklyn. 

Steve sucked in a surprised gasp of air, inhaling deeply the heavenly scent coming from the other man.

“Oops, sorry, Bucky!”

At least they already had one thing in common: blushing profusely and at every given opportunity. Steve was sure this couldn’t be healthy.

 

++++

 

_When I go, all I ever seem to fear_

_Is that you’re gonna find someone_

_And slowly watch me disappear._

 

++++

 

**Brooklyn Bridge Park, in the small grove that Bucky had called home for the last few months, 4:16 pm**

When they had left the coffee shop, Becca sent him on his merry way only after issuing a plethora of threats in case he even dared to think about going back to his tree. She had also stared at him ominously, trying to urge him through her sheer willpower alone to go back into the coffee shop and propose to Steve then and there.

Because the whole apple pie debacle had made one thing very clear: if Steve was not Bucky’s one and only soulmate, he was at least one of them. Because Bucky had literally flower-ejaculated across the man at the first touch.

Way to go, Barnes.

But that opened up a whole new can of worms that Bucky was extremely unwilling to dig into. One soulmate made him awaken from his tree time and brought him back just for him to stumble upon Steve and having a dryadic climax in a crowded coffee shop.

Soulmate business was seriously fucked up. Weren't there any courses like How Not To Drive Away Your Soulmate at the First Meeting 101? 

Sighing to himself, Bucky pulled the leather jacket tighter around himself. He was still amazed about how well it fit him, about how it hugged him like lover’s embrace.

Pressing his cheek to his shoulder, he inhaled deeply.

His own scent – wooden, mossy – was already permeating the leather. But he could still make out traces of its rightful owner: salty, fresh, and wild like the ocean. Letting Bucky dream about what it would feel like to be wrapped up in the stranger’s arms.

He was sitting in the shadow of his beloved grove, staring sullenly out onto the East River. What he wouldn’t give to will his mystery man to rise out of the waters before him once more.

Preferably while he was in any condition and shape to run and chase him. Ask him who he was and if he could imagine spending the rest of his life and bed with Bucky.

And now he was thinking about that fine butt.

Absentmindedly, he carded his fingers into the dewy grass, stroking the blades and burrowing his fingertips into the moist ground below.

Flesh hand and wooden fingers alongside each other.

Thinking of wet skin and a golden glimmer.

Broad shoulders and tiny waist.

And then Steve’s face.

Steve from the coffee shop with his sweet smile and beautiful blue eyes twinkling with mirth and embarrassment.

Bucky sighed deeply. He was confused, his heart tugging in two different directions and beating out of rhythm when thinking about both men. But at the same time he couldn’t help but feel like his beautiful stranger and Steve could maybe, just maybe, be one and the same person.

All these human thoughts made his brain hurt. Oh the comfort of a simpler tree mind.

If slipping back into his tree wouldn’t mean to miss his chance at finding his soulmate, he would run right back into the small grove just across the lawn and do it.

But something was holding him in his humanoid form. The blossoms along his left arm ever blooming and reminding him that his soulmate was somewhere out there and waiting for him.

Sighing deeply once more, Bucky sunk down between the roots of his favorite tree, his head resting against the trunk. He’d been human for only a few hours and he was already so tired, he could sleep for a century if he really put his mind to it.

His eyelids fell down heavily and with another mighty sigh, Bucky Barnes slipped into slumber in the shadow of a small grove in Brooklyn Bridge Park, wrapped up safely in a warm leather jacket smelling of the ocean and freedom.

 

++++

 

_Don't let the tide come and wash us away_

_Don't let the tide come and take me._

 

++++

 

**Brooklyn Bridge Park, at the river bank, 9:16 pm**

 

Steve’s day had been long. After closing up the shop, Nat had hounded him about cleaning up the place from ceiling to tiles. He felt safe to say that you could now eat from the floor of the Pie Hole. He loved that name but he detested the cleaning.

Especially, when the redhead used the hours that he was chained to the cleaning supplies to interrogate and heckle him about Bucky.  

So his day was also long, exhaustingly long in an emotionally draining way.

Because since Becca and Bucky had left the coffee shop, all he could think about was Bucky’s shy smile, the soft blush at the top of his cheeks, and the rumbling laugh that made the pretty little blossoms along his arm dance.

And that scent! Bucky had smelled like a whole apple orchard in full bloom and Steve wanted to wrap himself up in that smell.

Not to forget the way he had looked in Steve’s seal skin. Or the leather jacket that looked just like Steve’s pelt.

But he’d been too chicken shit to really talk to the beautiful man, couldn’t really bring himself to turn on the charm that all the old ladies visiting the shop that day had loved so much. Let alone ask him on a date or to marry him and have his babies.

Well, for the marriage part, Steve would need his seal skin that was ideally still hidden under the tree at Brooklyn Bridge Park. But he couldn’t even work up the nerve to ask Bucky where he got that fancy leather jacket from. Target maybe? How would he know how shopping was done in the U.S. after spending a century over in Europe?

So Steve was on his way to visit his seal skin when a slight breeze from the river shore travelled up to where he was following the promenade over to the small wood crowded at the edge of the park.

He could taste the salt on his tongue and already feel the cold water on his heated skin. He took a cautious look around. A short lap around the bay couldn’t hurt, right?

And as if the Fates watched him, the closer he got to the water’s edge, the lesser people he encountered. They all seemingly remembered they had to do something else or the other and packed up to leave the park uncharacteristically early.

But Steve was not one to look a gift horse in the mouth.

Coming to stand at the last edge of grass, he toed of his heavy boots. Looking around once more to ensure he was really alone at this strip of the rocky beach, he pulled his shirt over his head and his jeans and boxers down in one go.

With a giddy feeling rising up in him, he let out a whooping sound and raced across smooth, wet rocks towards the East River.

 

++++

 

_I just want a safe place to hide us away_

_So don't let the tide come and take me._

 

++++

 

**Brooklyn Bridge Park, really close to the bank of the East River, 9:45 pm**

 

Bucky couldn’t pinpoint what woke him which developed to be a recurring event apparently.

Rolling to his feet, he stretched out his arm and back. So his afternoon nap had turned into a full-on deep sleep judging from the dark sky and glowing street lights beyond the grove. He gave his tree a parting pat to the trunk when he caught the faint sound of someone splashing around in water.

Curious as ever, he made his way out of the woods and down towards where the East River was softly lapping against the shore to see what lunatic went swimming in early spring in the middle of the night.

In the soft glow of the street lights he could make out a heap of rumpled clothing at the edge of the rocky beach.

A loud splashing sound made him whirl around towards further down the stream, where a figure was trudging out of the water clumsily.

“Steve? Is that you?” Incredulously, Bucky stared at the approaching man. He couldn’t bring himself to avert his gaze, all that golden, wetly glimmering skin was mysteriously known to him.

Could it be…?

“Bucky?” Steve came to a stop just a few feet away from him and even in the semi-darkness of the dark, he could see a blush spreading down Steve’s face, across his chest to his pebbled up nipples.

Steve’s naked chest and pebbled up nipples.

Sue him, but Bucky was salivating.

He must have been silent for too long as Steve turned on his heel and walked back towards the water’s edge. After a few steps, he stopped though.

Looking back over his broad shoulders, he winked at Bucky: “Care to join me for a little late night swim?”

And then he took off and ran into the river, the water sloshing up his strong legs beautifully, amazingly curved butt jiggling merrily, and giddy laughter dancing up to where Bucky was still stood in a stupor.

Could he really be that lucky? Were the Fates looking down at him benevolently today?

Shaking himself out of it forcefully, Bucky ripped of his shoes and jeans hastily. When he took of the leather jacket, he forced himself to slow down. It was too precious too him to risk anything happening to it.

But when he had placed it down gently across the pile that was Steve’s clothing, he tear down the rest of his clothes before marching down to the water like a man on a mission.

Becca called the walk his death strut but firstly he didn’t want to think about his sister while potentially doing the dirty with the most beautiful being he had ever encountered. And secondly…

He had lost the plot because he had just waded into the shallow water when Steve floated towards him gracefully and his mind was only focused on the man before him once more.

“Hi there!” Rising to his feet, Steve came closer to where Bucky was rooted to the spot.

Water was cascading down broad shoulders and a muscular chest, golden skin was glimmering in the faint light surrounding them, and the water lapped softly at their feet.

Bucky took in a shuddering breathe when he came to the conclusion that it was indeed his soulmate standing before him. The one that brought him back from the sleep and into life once more. The one that awakened his soul and made it bloom.

“Steve…” Whispering, Bucky raised his left hand towards Steve’s face.

The moment his palm curved around the other man’s cheek, cradling it lovingly, a burst of flowers sprung into life all around them, filling the air with the heavy scent of apple trees in full bloom.

Moaning loudly, Steve grabbed onto Bucky and pulled him close. Pressing his lips to the other’s mouth, he moaned once more.

Bucky was in heaven. Steve’s lips were velvety soft against his, his tongue tracing softly along the seam of Bucky’s lips before shamelessly forcing themselves in, plundering his mouth. All he could do was hang onto Steve for dear life and groaning deeply at the shudders that wrecked his body.

Everywhere their bodies were pressed together was burning hot, pulsing with need, life, and love. But this was not enough, would never be enough. Bucky wanted them to be closer, to be one.

Wrapping one hand around Steve’s neck, burying his fingers in the short strands of blond hair, and the other around that deliciously tiny waist, Bucky pulled the other man back towards the rocky shore. Never breaking their kiss.  

Together they stumbled across the rocks and pebbles, slipping and sliding on their wet surfaces. They clutched at each other, their hands sliding along rapidly cooling skin. Stroking across smooth backs and strong arms. Nails digging in and leaving traces across pale skin.

Unwilling to part even for a few seconds to make their way back to where their clothes lay strewn around on the grass, they stepped on each other’s feet and tripped each other every other step.

When Bucky could feel grass below the soles of his feet once more, he forced Steve to a stop. Pulling back from their kisses, he pressed their foreheads together and took a moment to just breathe them in.

“Steve.” He murmured reverently before kissing the corner of Steve’s mouth. Then his cheek. The cut of his jaw. Behind his ear where the skin was thin and sensitive. And then placing biting kisses down that beautiful, pale neck to where it met that strong set of shoulders where Bucky set at marking it.

Whining, Steve shivered violently against him.

Concerned, Bucky pulled back to look up at the other man.

“No, don’t stop, please, Bucky, don’t stop!” Needy, he grabbed at Bucky’s long hair, trying to pull him back in again, all the time shivering like leaves in the breeze.

And then it hit him. Steve was dripping wet from his swim session before Bucky barged in on him and was probably freezing in the cool spring air.

“Just a moment, sweetheart!”

Bending down, he grabbed the leather jacket from its safe place and wrapped it around Steve’s shoulders, rubbing up and down his arms to warm him up a little bit. Maybe they should take this somewhere else…

That was before a high pitched whine cut through the quiet night around them and Steve shook from head to toe.

“Oh Fates! Bucky!” Staring incredulously, Bucky watched as the jacket around Steve emitted a soft golden glimmer. It vibrated along Steve’s broad frame, bending out of form and changing from a smooth leather to a fluffy grey fur before his eyes.

After a moment, there was only Steve standing in front of him. No more shaking or glowing. But a soft seal pelt draped protectively across Steve.

“Steve, are you okay? What is it? What’s wrong?” Panicked, Bucky stepped closer to Steve, hands hovering awkwardly between them. Eager to wipe away the tears that were slowly rolling down Steve’s cheeks but unsure if they were still welcome.

“It’s you!” And with that, Steve was on him again. Kissing like his life depended on it and devouring every moan and sigh that came from deep within Bucky’s soul.

Before he could react, Steve had pulled down the pelt from his shoulders and spread across the lawn. And pushed Bucky down on it right after only to climb into his lap a second later. They were pressed together from hip to chest and all he could do was cling to Steve and pull him even closer.

A giddy laugh broke out of the man on top of him and he had never seen anything more beautiful than the happily sparkling eyes and the red, plump lips stretched into a wide, tender smile.

“Buck, we’re soulmates!”

“I know. We’ll be together ‘til the end of the line, Stevie!”

Groaning deeply, Steve kissed him once more. From his perch in Bucky’s lap, he began to swivel his hips, grinding their erections together where they lay against each other hot and hard.

Bucky let his hands roam around Steve’s body, stroking the strong thighs clenching around him, the broad back, and that incredible waist. Whispering tirelessly of how beautiful he was, how amazing, and sweet.  

Teasing and caressing, stroking and petting, his hands wandered down lower and lower until he cupped the glorious bum of his dreams in both hands. Grabbing and kneading it enthusiastically until Steve giggled into his ear.

Leaning back from where he had been diligently working on sucking a love bite into Bucky’s neck, he gazed down at him reverently.

“I want you in me, make love to me, Buck!”

And with that, Steve took hold of his erection and pressed it to his hole before slowly sinking down on it, intelligent blue eyes glittering fiercly in the soft light. Swiveling his hips in tight little circles, he got used to the girth of Bucky within him, biting his lip and gazing deep into the other’s eyes.

“Take your time, sweetheart, feel me…,” and then he was abruptly cut off from whatever it was he wanted to say when Steve lifted himself up and nearly off his cock and slammed down again. He set a relentless pace, forcing Bucky to buck up into him just as fast and hard – hitting his prostate dead on and pushing little breathless “ah, ah, ah” out of him on every down-stroke.

Bucky slammed his head back onto the ground with a bitten off curse. Steve was clutching him tight within him, his smooth walls clenching around his dick tirelessly. He worked a hand between their gyrating bodies and wrapped it loosely around Steve to fuck into.

It took only two, three, four strokes of his barken fingers along Steve’s soft and overly sensitive dick to have him shouting with an intense orgasm, pulling Bucky into the abyss closely behind him.

 

++++

 

 

++++

 

_Don't let the tide come and wash us away_

_Don't let the tide come and take me_

 

++++

 

**Brooklyn Bridge Park, really close to the bank of the East River, 11:22 pm**

 

When Bucky came to the third time that day, it was to Steve cuddled close to him and the both of them wrapped in his seal skin. Absentmindedly, he stroked his rough left hand along one of Steve’s arms that was snaked around his chest.

Grumbling, Steve burrowed his face deeper into Bucky’s neck. And huffed when Bucky’s snickering unsettled him further.

“I’m sorry but you’re really cute!” Smiling down at the other man lovingly, Bucky cradled Steve close. Despite the damp grass itching along his naked back and Steve's dried cum flaking along his chest and stomach, he had never felt better. Their small cocoon of just their two bodies and the seal skin tightly stretched around them felt like home. More like any idyllic grove or majestic ash tree ever had.

“Yeah, well. Good for you because you basically selkie-married me with that chivalrous jacket move!” Steve snarked back while twisting around on top of Bucky, trying to get comfortable again. So apparently he was just as sassy as Becca had said. Bucky loved it.

“Did that selkie-marriage include the wedding night with no lube or preparation as well or is that just a you-thing?” A little teasing had never hurt anybody and also Bucky already loved that little glimmer in Steve’s blue eyes when he got wind of a challenge – no matter how small it was apparently.

Sitting up on his new husband’s lap, Steve smirked down at him: “That is for me to know and for you to find out! Preferably in a real bed the next time. And preferably soon.”

 

++++

 

_Far from with you, where I wanna stay_

_So don't let the tide come and take me_

 

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading this fic and appreciating the art!!  
> Kudos and comments are amazing! 
> 
> The rebloggable post for the fic is [here>/a> ](https://buchanansbum.tumblr.com/post/183276971515/dont-let-the-tide-come-wash-us-away-art-post)  
> The art post for reblogging is [here](my-finished-works-minus-one-naughty-little-piece)  
> and even more is [here](https://archiveofourown.org/works/18018026/chapters/42570905)  
> for extra kudos and comments!


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